


Working The Problem

by Madalayna, memorizingthedigitsofpi



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Humor, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, always go for the gag, comedy of smut, fitzsimmons at sci-ops, fitzsimmons movie night, may contain puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 01:33:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3433124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madalayna/pseuds/Madalayna, https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorizingthedigitsofpi/pseuds/memorizingthedigitsofpi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitzsimmons movie night that goes awry. Smut ensues with much comedy and occasional puns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Working The Problem

Fitz swept all the dishes on the coffee table into the dishpan and stood back to check the living room for anything else amiss. Seeing another few plates he retrieved them, made sure the kettle was on, and then picked up the last few items of clothing that were still lying around on the floor. Just as he stuffed them into the hamper, the doorbell rang.

He jogged to the door, took a deep breath and opened it.

“Fitz! I hope Chinese is alright?” she said, with a note of uncertainty in her voice.

“Yes, of course it is,” he said happily, stepping back and gesturing for her to enter.

Simmons walked straight to the kitchen, viewing the disarray there with her nose wrinkled in disgust. “Got home late? No time to clean up?” she asked, accidentally knocking over a pile of engineering journals on the kitchen counter.

“What?” Fitz asked, looking back at the pristine living room. “I _did_ clean up.”

Simmons looked around the kitchen with disbelief, scoffed derisively and began to unload the bag of food. She took the last clean plate out of his cupboard and prepared her serving. Fitz took chopsticks and his box of Sichuan beef back out to the living room. Setting them down on the coffee table, he began to search for the remote to turn the telly on.

“ _King Kong_ is on, Simmons!” he called excitedly over his shoulder. Unfortunately, she was right behind him and she jumped at the loud cry, nearly dropping her cup of tea.

“Oh, sorry, Simmons,” he said, steadying her hand with his. He flicked the telly on before sitting down on his usual side of the sofa and digging into his cardboard container of food.

She sighed and set her remarkably unspilled tea down before recognizing the tell-tale sounds emanating from the speakers. Drawing her arm up slowly and pointing limply at the image on the screen, she said, “That’s NOT _King Kong_ , Fitz.”

Fitz looked at her in confusion. “What do you mean it’s not—” he turned his head to the telly and trailed off. He stared at it for a minute before tilting his head to the side. “Are they—?”

“They _are_ ,” Jemma confirmed, sitting primly down on the other side of the sofa. “And most acrobatically, too.” Honestly, how did the pornography industry survive without even a basic understanding of physiology?

Fitz watched a minute longer, trying to puzzle out exactly what was happening on the screen in front of him. “Is that even _possible_?” he asked in total disbelief. It wasn’t even sexy. It was just…confusing.

“First of all, _no_ ,” Jemma replied, popping a piece of General Tso’s chicken into her mouth. She chewed for a moment before swallowing. “And second of all, why would anyone even try to find out?”

Fitz knit his brows together in concentration, still watching the couple on the screen in front of him. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, putting his box of food down and reaching under his coffee table for a notebook and a pen.

Jemma looked from her friend to his notebook to the screen and back again. “Oh no, Fitz,” she moaned. “Not again.” How many times had he interrupted film nights in order to work through the physics of what was happening on the screen. She’d had to put a blanket ban on all science fiction.

“Shh. Just a second,” he replied distractedly. He sketched out the scene that was playing out before them and started marking in the approximate angles and forces involved.

She sighed and delved back into her dinner. Sometimes it was best to just let him get it out of his system. She regarded the screen again, shaking her head. Ridiculous.

By the time he had finished his diagram, his food had gone cold, the “actors” on the screen had evidently made some new “friends” and Simmons was giving him a look of complete annoyance.

He jabbed at the page with his finger and said, “It’s possible, Simmons. It’s definitely _possible_.”

“Oh, Fitz,” she said with a sigh. Her annoyance going into overdrive as she flung her head back against the sofa. Glaring at the ceiling she added, “No, it’s not! Every _time_ , Fitz! I came to watch a film and eat Chinese food. Can we do that now?”

“It _is_ possible though, Simmons. I’ve done the maths. The angles involved are—”

“Fitz, the pornography industry promotes these bizarre sexual fantasies to increase addiction rates and improve their profit margins, you know? That is _completely_ fake. It can’t be done,” she lectured, throwing up her hands in frustration. “They’re just catering to the desperation of single men who…” she trailed off in thought and, taking a calming breath continued, “Well, nevermind, let’s just find a film to watch before it gets too late.”

“Ehm, okay,” he said, worried that he’d offended Simmons and feeling that he was unqualified to comment on the pornography _industry_.

He dropped the notepad on the coffee table with a final sad peek at his perfect maths and picked up the remote again. He flipped the channel and realized immediately that something was very much not right. Every channel was now pornography. This was not the basic cable package he’d signed up for.

“Fitz?” Jemma asked slowly, watching as he pressed buttons on the remote with increasing frequency.

“I-I don’t…” Fitz replied, panic entering his voice. He jabbed several more buttons causing several more moans and one unfortunate bleat to emit from his telly. He pressed Next Channel even harder after that one. “I don’t know what’s…” He turned the power off and looked over at Simmons helplessly. “I…”

Jemma had put her empty plate down on the coffee table and picked up the notebook with Fitz’s maths on it. The pen was in her hand now, and she was was jotting notes in the margins while mumbling. “... angle of penetration… muscle distention… height of the _bed_... “ She shook her head with increasing finality. “No, I’m afraid, not,” she pronounced with certainty.

He reached over and snatched the pencil, pointing to a notation on the side of the sheet. “I think that’s the key, really.”

“Oh, even so,” Simmons scoffed. “It’s still not possible. And even if it were, it almost certainly wouldn’t be pleasurable.”

Fitz thoughtfully stroked a finger down his temple several times, his eyes flitting to Simmons’ full lips as he said, “How would you know...unless you tried?” He looked down, suddenly unable to meet her eyes but quietly continued, “Scientific discovery requires experimentation and analysis.”

Simmons swallowed audibly. She held the notebook closer to her nose in an attempt to hide her flushed face. Was Fitz... _flirting_ with her? She shifted self-consciously on the sofa and said, “First it requires research to support your hypothesis.”

He raised his eyes enough to look at her without lifting his head. “Technically speaking, the hypothesis has already been put forth,” he gestured at the television. He held his breath and waited.

She inhaled shakily, looking at him out of the corner of her eye as she put the notebook down. “I suppose it has,” she agreed. “What,” she cleared her throat and slid her now-moist palms down her thighs to dry them. “What is your proposed experimentation?” Her voice sounded high to her own ears. She hoped he wouldn’t notice.

Fitz let his breath out slowly, trying to calm himself down. “I suppose,” he started hesitantly, “We could start with a proof-of-concept?” When she didn’t immediately shoot down the idea, he continued with slightly more confidence. “To show that my maths are correct?”

Simmons’ mind was racing but she tried to keep her voice level this time. “Using some sort of…models?” she suggested.

“Well, anything that isn’t anatomically accurate would be a waste of our efforts,” Fitz countered, stroking his finger down to his chin then back up to underline his lower lip.

Simmons’ breath caught in her throat as her eyes followed along, transfixed by his finger as it made its slow pass along his lip. She opened her mouth to reply but nothing came out as butterflies fluttered through her tummy. His eyebrows were raised in question until she finally blurted, “We could use real people!”

Fitz dropped his head into his hands then and replied in a muffled voice, “Yes, yes we could, Simmons.” He looked up, fixing her to her spot on the sofa and said, “Do you have anyone in mind?”

Her eyes darted from side-to-side as if the answer might appear out of thin air. “Em, I don’t know, really,” she hesitated. “I suppose...,” she looked back at him. “I mean, _I’m_ not really seeing anyone right now, and neither are you. So...perhaps we should table this experiment until a later time…” Fitz’s disappointment as he released a pent up breath was completely lost on Jemma as she silently berated herself for her answer.

“Oh,” he said, and that single syllable was more depressing than an Emily Brontë novel. “Yeah, sure,” he continued, making two positive words sound completely negative.

Simmons bit her lip and studied his face. If she didn’t know better… “Or,” she said before she could stop herself.

Fitz’s head came up so quickly she worried he might have hurt himself. “Or?” His hopes rose with his intonation.

Jemma smiled awkwardly and waved a hand in dismissal. “Nevermind. Stupid idea.”

“I thought we always said there weren’t any stupid ideas.”

“It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“Well, I mean…we’re _friends_ right?” she asked hesitantly.

“ _Best_ friends.”

“And we…get along?”

“Famously.”

Jemma took a deep breath before diving back in. “And we’re both… _attractive_?”

Fitz gulped. “We are?” he asked in surprise.

She looked worried now. “Aren’t we?”

He definitely didn’t want her to be worried. “Well, I know _you_ are. I’d have to be blind not to think so!”

Her cheeks flushed in pleasure. “You are too,” she smiled.

He grinned back, delighted. “Well then.”

“Well then.” Simmons repositioned herself on the sofa, looking satisfied, as if everything were settled. She grinned at Fitz.

He continued to look at her. The silence drew out. “Ehm, so? Then...” Fitz prompted finally.

Simmons’ face went slack with disbelief. Really? “So…” she parroted, drawing the word out with her eyebrows raised, her head tilting a bit in his direction. Then, realizing there was no other course, she sucked in a fortifying breath and said, “We should do it then.”

“We should? Do it…?”

He sounded so dubious she felt the need to clarify further. “Yes, the experiment…” She licked her lips and continued, “Your hypothesis?”

Fitz looked uncomfortable suddenly. “Oh. Yes. The _experiment_.” Because that’s the only way this would ever happen.

That was not the face of a man who was about to have it off with her, at least, not in her experience. Simmons replayed the conversation in her head. Could she have been clearer? Hadn’t she just proposed that they have _sex_? Had he misunderstood? “Yes,” she picked up the notebook and tapped the page with his notes to illustrate. “The _sex_ …” she trailed off.

“I don’t know, Simmons,” he replied. “Maybe we should wait until...I don’t know, you have someone you care about…” His hangdog expression would have been comical if she hadn’t just proposed that they have sex and then been apparently rejected.

Grabbing the notebook, she swatted him over the head with it. “I _care_ about _you_ , you numpty!” Honestly.

Fitz had the good graces to look a bit sheepish. “But before…you said....”

She raised an eyebrow, the notebook still poised in her hand.

He gulped. “You said you wanted to be seeing someone…” He’d heard her right, hadn’t he?

“Fitz?” she asked, taking a breath to calm herself down. How could someone so clever be so dense? “What were we planning on doing tonight?”

He looked suddenly suspicious, as if she were trying to trick him. “Having a take-away...and watching a film?”

“And what did we do two nights ago?”

“We went to see Hugo and had dinner at Alfredo’s?”

“And last Saturday?”

“You made a curry, and we marathoned Pushing Daisies on Netflix?”

“And what is the most common date there is?”

He narrowed his eyes, still waiting for the trick to play out. “...Dinner and a movie?”

“Exactly,” she said triumphantly. “Face it, Fitz. We’re dating.”

“But…” he sat there, stunned, as he thought his way through her reasoning. “But we’ve never…I never... “ His eyes snapped to hers. “We haven’t even _kissed_.”

She leaned towards him, a determined look on her face. “One way to fix that.” And then she closed the gap of the last few inches and pressed her lips softly against his.

Fitz hadn’t known he was holding his breath until he let out an embarrassing moan into Simmons’ mouth. He pulled away sharply and said, “Sorry! I mean...that...well, that was humiliating. You probably think I’ve never kissed anyone before now.”

Simmons shook her head emphatically. “It wouldn’t bother me either way,” she said honestly. “Do you want to go again?”

Fitz expression went from dejected to elated in an instant. “Yeah!”

This time he was ready and Simmons began to realize that whether he’d kissed anyone before or not, he was rather good at it. She felt her pulse start to race, and as she reached up to scratch her fingers through his curls, she pulled back and whispered in his ear, “So, are we doing this experiment or not?”

Fitz leaned back on the sofa in shock.

“You really want to?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“Don’t you?” she asked in return.

His jaw worked up and down a few times as he tried to find the right words. “Well… _yes_. I mean, of _course_ , but…” His eyes grew larger as Simmons stood up and took his hand.

“But what?” she asked, as they started walking down the hallway to his bedroom. She paused to kiss him again. She really should have done that a year ago. Maybe two. She slid her tongue across his lips and shivered at his reaction.

He pushed her against the hall wall and deepened the kiss. This was crazy. He was kissing Simmons for Heaven’s sake. Her hands tugged his hair slightly and she moaned into his mouth. God, he was kissing _Simmons_ and it was _perfect_. His hands moved from her waist up her back and then back down to her arse. He just wanted to touch every part of her.

When his hands squeezed her bum, Jemma broke their kiss to gasp breathlessly. “Bedroom,” she panted. “Now.”

“Wait!” Fitz said urgently. “We need my notes.” He left her standing against the wall and ran back to the living room.

When he came back, Simmons was standing there with her arms akimbo, looking a bit pissed off. “Maths? Experiment... _angles_?” he said abashed, his voice getting higher with each word. He held up his notebook, flicking it with his index finger for emphasis.

Jemma gave a long-suffering sigh and smiled. “Oh, Fitz.”

“I just…”

“Shh,” she quieted him. “Anything else you need? Or can we proceed now?”

He motioned for her to go first. “Yes, we can pro—WAIT!” he shouted yet again..

Jemma stopped mid-step and then turned to look at him, spreading her arms wide in a gesture of frustration. “ _Really_?”

Fitz hit himself in the face with his notebook and groaned. “My room’s a mess.” He cursed himself internally. He looked over at Simmons who was definitely looking a mite peeved. “Give me five minutes!”

“But…”

“Five minutes!” he repeated, rushing past her.

Fitz gathered up all his scraps of laundry from the floor and stuffed them into the over-full hamper, tamping it down with his foot. It got stuck in the dense mass of clothes but he somehow managed not to go over backward. He looked around and saw some dishes which he deposited into the sink in the adjoining bathroom. In a mad dash he made the bed and then checked his watch, two minutes. Not bad. He sprinted back out to the hallway discovering that Simmons had gone to wait in the living room again.

He found her on the sofa studying his notes. “Fitz…” she said. “You said this equation was the key… Is that...Are you…” she trailed off, motioning with her hand, indicating the body part in question as her face flushed crimson. “Is that measurement… _accurate_?”

He shrugged. “I thought I should use an average length,” he explained.

Simmons’ eyes widened. “ _That_ ,” she pointed to the number in question, “Is _not_ average.”

“It’s not?” he asked, completely confused. “But in the films…”

“...The _pornographic_ films?”

“Well, yes.”

“And _that’s_ what you’re basing that measurement on?”

“I mean, of course I included myself as well, since that’s the only measurement I can correctly gauge.”

Simmons stared at him, at a loss for words.

“But I’m not as large as the men in the films,” he added.

She let out a breath. “Thank goodness.”

“They’re at least an inch longer than I am.”

“Oh Lord,” Simmons moaned.

“Is that good or bad?” Fitz asked, looking anxious.

“I’m not sure yet,” Simmons said with a sigh.

Fitz just stood there waiting. Simmons seemed to be deep in thought.

“Well, nothing ventured…” she said finally and stood up from the sofa, notebook in hand.

He trailed her to the bedroom where she threw it on his freshly made bed. Pulling the tie out of her hair and shaking it free, she then slipped off her blazer. Noticing that Fitz was still just standing there in the doorway, she waved for him to hurry up.

“Oh! Right.” he said in surprise. He’d been content just to watch her.

“Maybe I should see what I’m up against beforehand,” she said swinging her hips as she closed the distance between them. Taking hold of his waistband, she gave it a tug and pulled him in for another kiss.

He kissed her back eagerly, cupping her arse again. “I thought,” he panted between kisses, “We were just,” he kissed her again and urged her onto the bed, “Doing a proof-of-concept?” He undid the fly on his jeans and pulled them down.

Simmons stared at the package he was sporting in his boxers. “Consider the concept proved,” she said, thinking to herself that she’d thought King Kong _wasn’t_ going to make an appearance this evening.

She got her shirt half-way unbuttoned and abandoned it in favor of wiggling out of her jeans while Fitz tumbled onto the bed beside her. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as he gazed down on her.

Still squirming to free herself from her denim bonds, she looked up at him and asked, “What?”

“Nothing, I’ll tell you later.” Fitz said, pulling her close and kissing her again.

As he deepened the kiss, he slid his hand cautiously across her belly and over her hip. She rolled into him, hoping he might grab her bum again but his hand kept moving past her as he reached for the notebook behind her on the bed.

He broke the kiss and raising the page up between them. He pointed to the diagram and said, “Simmons—”

She grabbed the book, smacked him on the head with it again and tossed it over her shoulder. “ _Later_ ,” she insisted, pushing him fully onto his back and kissing him again. They should really have a discussion about priorities.

She threw one leg over his hips and straddled him, immediately moaning at the feeling of him pressing up between her legs. But that discussion could wait. She had priorities of her own right now.

Fitz thrust up against her and tangled his fingers in her hair as they kissed. He was a little confused by her sudden disinterest in their experiment, but he wasn’t complaining.

Fitz kissed her enthusiastically but seemed hesitant to go further. She ground her hips down and elicited a deep groan from him. He continued to let her take the lead and she finally took his hands and slid them up to cup her breasts through the lace of her bra. A high whimper came from his throat but he quickly recovered and began to explore them eagerly.

Simmons was beginning to lose herself in the sensations and she needed...“More!” she gasped, raising her lips off of his. “Please Fitz?” She ground her hips down onto his even harder.

He squeezed her breasts more firmly, his thumbs stroking her hard nipples beneath the rough fabric. It was amazing how that made her throw her head back and moan. He wanted to hear her do that again, so he pinched her nipples lightly between his fingers.

“Oh yes,” she panted, leaning back and supporting herself with her hands. Her thrusts were increasing in speed and desperation. “So _good_ ,” she whispered, almost to herself.

Fitz took that as his cue and leaned up, pulling down the cups of her bra and taking one of her nipples between his lips. Her movements against him were getting erratic and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d last.

“Harder!” Simmons moaned, arching her back to urge him in his efforts. At the same time she ground herself against him again and it was almost too much.

“Simmons?” he said pulling away. “Ehm, I think…” Reciting the periodic table was doing nothing for him at this stage.

But she wasn’t really listening, she was still moving, lost in the moment. Noticing that pleasurable sensations were stopping, she finally said, “Fitz? What is it?”

“It’s just,” he blushed bright red. “I’m in danger of…” He gave her a significant look and nodded down to his lap, “...Losing containment.”

She looked him right in the eye and said, “Good.” Then, she rolled onto her back and took him with her so he ended up on top of her. “So am I.” She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him tight against her before kissing him again.

He lost himself in their kiss, moving himself against her with an increasing rhythm. “But the experiment…” he protested weakly, dipping his head and once more taking one of her nipples into his mouth.

Simmons grabbed him by the hair and kept his lips against her breast. Then, she uttered words she never thought she’d say. “ _Screw_ the experiment.”

She abandoned all efforts to rein herself in and began to grind against him in earnest. His mouth continued to work her breasts first one, then the other. She dragged her fingers furiously through his hair urging him on. “Fitz. Oh _yes_ ,” she cried loudly, as her orgasm tore through her body.

He groaned loudly against her breast in a way that she knew meant that he had also arrived. “Okay,” she said, with a shuddering breath. Already back to her familiar practical manner, she said, “Five minutes, you think?”

Fitz was still breathing hard, and looking up from between her breasts, he said, “What?!”

“Your experiment!” she answered, her breathing returning to normal. “I’m ready now.”

“What?” He stared at her with all of his limbs feeling like jello. “ _Now_?” He rolled off of her and splayed out on the bed. His boxers were sticking to him rather unpleasantly.

Simmons sat up and removed her shirt and bra completely. “What’s your usual refractory period?” she asked, standing up to slide her knickers down her legs.

He gulped as he took in her naked form and felt himself twitch slightly. “Apparently, not that long,” he said, watching as her breasts swayed with her every movement. They were hypnotic.

“Excellent,” she smiled. “Now, take off your things and I’ll find your notes.” She turned in the approximate direction she’d thrown his notebook earlier.

Fitz slowly dragged himself upright and started to disrobe, only to freeze in place when Simmons bent over at the waist to pick up his book. This wasn’t going to take long at all. He quickly finished removing the rest of his clothing.

Simmons held up the book, holding it close to her face she looked confused for a moment and then turned it right side up. “My word,” she said, checking Fitz’s arithmetic. Looking up she added, “We need to do this quickly.”

Fitz looked down at himself, back to her and asked, “Ehm...why exactly?”

“Up to ten minutes post-orgasm is when the vagina is most relaxed,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“Oh.” Fitz said dumbly. His eyes sparked with realization and he added, “Hey! Are you unfairly slanting the variables toward a positive outcome?”

“Fitz! You were the one who wanted to do the experiment so badly. And this _is_ the first attempt…”

He looked chastened. “True…I suppose we could throw this one out if we wanted to...”

Simmons sighed, motioning, she said, “Quickly, decide.”

“Yes! Fine. Okay!” He shifted around onto the mattress and she joined him there, placing the diagram next to them.

“So I just—”

“—goes _here_ and—”

“— _sure_? Because—”

“—angle of desce—”

“—but penetration—”

“—move your hips _here_ —”

“—n’t _bend_ like that! Are y—”

“—ust have to shift my—”

“—atch it! That’s my—”

“—me just—”

“—lmost got—”

“There!” Fitz said triumphantly as he slid inside her at last.

“Yes!” Jemma shouted, feeling a wonderful deep throbbing inside of her.

She groaned as he started to move. “Ah...Well, I was wrong...about it not being...pleasurable.”

“Yeah?” Fitz asked happily though a bit distracted by his own blissful feelings.

“I still say...it was fake. Oh!”

“What?!”

“It took an engineer...and a biochemist with three...PhDs between them...to duplicate it.”

“Oh, Simmons.”

 


End file.
